maskormenacelogs | walking beside the guilty and the innocent

[ Truthfully, she hadn't been in the house much lately. Her attention has been entirely elsewhere, divided between hunting for safe houses, budding friendships, and the ridiculous schedule of a so-called supermodel. She'd nearly forgotten the incident on the boat. It had faded to the back of her mind. But then again, she hadn't seen much of Harvey Dent as a reminder either.

She almost doesn't recognize him, passing by the library on her way back from a shoot. She's still dark-eyed and red-lipped, but changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt -- somewhere between model and regular old Lil Crawley. Long strides and a brisk walk nearly carry her right by him.

But then she stops. Turns. Stares a moment. There's at least one half of that face she does recognize. ]

...Harv?

Edited 2014-04-27 20:33 (UTC)

[Edgeworth himself spends a lot of time at the library, studying intensively himself. It honestly quite rankles him that he was just given his job without having to prove himself at all, and so he works twice as hard as he would otherwise to gain the necessary knowledge so that he's good enough to warrant his position; weekends and days off, when he's not in the office, are spent here.

He's aware of someone else studying that very same subject; every once in a while, a book he needs is missing only to reappear later, or there are those small post-its that the reference librarians use to mark pages to be photocopied still sticking out of particular chapters. Edgeworth takes to observing when the other man is in the library and - gradually - becomes able to pick out when he will be there. In time, he sees someone who looks faintly, strangely familiar, decides it is because the man has been at the library at the same times - and so one day he goes over to him.

He nods in greeting.]

Sir.

[Cecil spends a lot of time just walking around. He hasn't got much else to do, really. And the people here are so interesting. Always dragging each other into dark alleys or writing delusional invective against the government or bleeding in the street. He catches sight of the latter, the blood and the glass, as he approaches a particular street corner.]

Fine evening, friend! Hope you're doing all right over there.

Violet hears the glass breaking before she sees it. The person looks unfamiliar from this distance but familiar enough that she has reason to walk after him. It makes her wince mentally to see him pluck glass from his hand; the blood hitting the pavement.

Still, ever bold, she speaks up once she's within arm's reach.

"If you needed a mirror, you could just go to a store."

Her voice is familiar; Harvey turns his head, still holding the piece of glass up toward his face, and when he sees Violet he finds he recognizes her, too. He smiles in a tense way that probably does not look entirely friendly.

"I'm all right," he says, lowering the glass and letting it drop. "Stores are closing, and anyway, mirror's are for people who want to see themselves."

He clenches his hand closed, then opens it again, bits of blood dripping out between his knuckles.

"Guess you haven't left just yet, huh?"

[ He hasn't been home much lately himself, although it's been for varying reasons. Avoidance for the most part -- just look at who he's living with -- and precaution for another; though Harvey's not officially moved out he's been finding other places to stay more often than not.

These past few days especially. He has been avoiding any negative temptation as much as possible, anything that might make him backslide in these early days. His face may be fixed, but he isn't naive enough to think that's more than a bandaid -- the wound has to be covered first before it can really begin to heal.

He looks up from his book, a lock of hair curling down messily over his forehead. Seeing Lil, his jaw clenches reflexively. ]

It's me. Still no hard feelings, right?

[ Harvey doesn't look up immediately, engrossed in his chapter, though without pausing he marks a part of the page with his thumb before glancing over to acknowledge his new company.

Not that seeing Edgeworth here really surprises him -- he's noticed the very same thing, run into the dilemma of needing a book that suddenly isn't there -- but Harvey has been admittedly rather avoidant since beginning this endeavor, less inclined to solve the mystery and just keep to himself. It's with some debate he works out the best way to respond.

He offers his left hand over amiably, the skin rougher than that of his right but relatively unmarked (visibly) by any scarring. ]

Hi, Miles. You didn't need this book, did you? I'm probably going to be a little longer.

[ With darkened eyes and a tensed jaw Harvey looks over, his expression sharp even as he continues to casually pluck glass from his hand. His expression then twists wryly. ]

Been worse. Had a little car trouble, but-- this doesn't look so bad to you, does it?

[ Nonchalantly he shows Cecil his bleeding hand. ]

Violet keeps her distance, watching the glass and the dripping blood. "Where would I be going?" She tilts her head curiously. Something finally clicking in her head. "You look different."

"You're moving soon, ain't you?"

His smirk remains, his eyebrow arched a little, and with a bloody finger he taps his left cheek. "Had some work done," he adds. "I think before people kept getting this impression that I was unfriendly."

"I decided not to." Violet says curtly, leaving it at that. "You're friendly or unfriendly no matter what you look like." She couldn't care less that he's half scarred.

[ The woman's always had a blatant way of looking at people -- and it's obvious that she isn't sure exactly what she ought to make of what she sees. While his scarred side hadn't ever truly fazed her, the difference is stark now, to state the obvious. It takes her a moment before she processes the question he's asked her. ]

...S'pose not.

[ Another little beat, before she turns fully, coming back towards him a few steps. ]

This is new.

The books that Kate sees him with when she saunters outside are ones that she's seen before. While she's never going to take the bar herself, she had found herself interested in how different things might be for Matt before he had to go ahead and take the bar so that he could legitimize himself here. Of course, he wouldn't use these books; superhero or not, there are some advantages that he simply doesn't have.

Still, the fact that this man is another one of Heropa's illustrious lawyers catches her attention. She has noticed that there's quite the surplus of them, and wonders about that. Of course, wondering isn't quite the same thing.

Nosy as she is, she drops off her book on a different table and slips over with an easy smile. "I have a friend who just went through that," she offers, looking at his books. "I wonder if he could help you study up."

Hearing the voice addressing him, Harvey looks over, his face still propped thoughtfully on his fist. He raises one eyebrow, looking from her to his book and back to her again, returning a smile that was one part wry and one part self-conscious.

"Yeah? Which friend? I know we got a few lawyers around these days," he says with a halfway sort of shrug. "Not that I need the help -- I've done it before. Just not in a while."

The opposite of new, actually.

[ He shrugs and smirks in a tense, wry sort of way, glancing down at the pages of his book before he levels his gaze on her again. ]

To me, I mean -- you're looking at the old me. Closest thing there'll ever be.

"What changed your mind?"

Sneering, he shrugs his shoulders and wipes some of the blood off on his sleeve. Whatever Violet thinks is not of great concern to him, because he knows other people will be thinking differently. "More people put stock into appearance than you might think."

[ She does look at him -- really looks at him, something like uncertainty still lingering openly on her face. After a moment though, she helps herself to the seat across from him at the picnic table, setting her bag down on the bench beside her as she considers him with a slightly tilted head. ]

So, what. [ Lil finally speaks up again, not averting her gaze -- though she never did before either. ] Y'jus' decided t'up an' get that fixed one mornin'?

"That's because people suck." Violet answers easily. She tilts her head slightly. "Are we doing this again? It's none of your business."

[The face might be strange - but he knows the voice. He's had more contact, after all, with the voice than with the appearance, and it is unmistakable -

But the change in his appearance...it seems nearly miraculous. Edgeworth stares a moment before finally coming to his senses, reaching out, taking the man's hand.]

I am...sorry, Mr. Dent. I - did not recognize you. You've - changed your appearance.

[Which seems an idiotic thing to say, truly. And rather insulting. He hopes the man will forgive the clumsiness of his tongue.]

[ Harvey doesn't seem offended -- in fact he smiles faintly, a strange shy sort of smirk that looks alien on a face that before couldn't smile more than just halfway. ]

For the better, right? I had some work done, I-- [ He pauses, glancing down at his book before he marks his place with a sticky note and closes it shut. ] I thought it might be easier moving up into a legitimate practice if I looked less like a movie monster. The specialists here are pretty incredible.

He exhales shortly, something between a laugh and a snort, before he shrugs again. There are still some shards of glass embedded in his arm but they're deep enough that he leaves them be, rolling his sleeve down so it covers him up to his bloody wrist.

"I know it's not," he says. "So what? No one's life's anyone else's business, really. Not technically. But then, we all cohabit the same place. We all make it each other's business by existing here."

[ The way she looks at him makes Harvey uncertain, somewhat, but he continues smiling in a calm sort of way. His overall manner is less agitated, the kind you might expect from a good-looking, successful, but somewhat forcibly humbled man. ]

No. I was inspired to get back into Law. And-- [ He pauses. ] It helps if you look the part, I've found.

The thing is, Matt will never really grasp all the intricacies of what's been done. He could never see the damage, and as terrible as it felt to his sensitive touch, it's not the same thing at all. You can't judge what you can't see, and thus the heart of their complicated dynamic: justice is blind, but Matt Murdock is still a man, and he can't be entirely objective. What he's going to do about Harvey Dent, though...he hasn't decided.

Even in the still somewhat-unfamiliar symphony of this new city, he hears. Matt has no trouble recognizing the heartbeat that says Harvey Dent, nor miss the sharp smell of blood, heavy and metallic even from blocks away. The sound of shattered glass. The only problem is...it's Daredevil, not civilian Matt Murdock, who's out tonight. Peter said Harvey knew, but there's a difference between knowing and knowing with confirmation, and Matt would prefer to withhold the latter.

There's no other explanation for how Matt just happens to be there (once he reclaims his regular clothes from a few blocks over) on that particular street, from seemingly out of nowhere. But that's not the most important thing, right now.

"You're bleeding, Harvey."

With no explanation for how he knows that, either. They know.

"It's not always that someone needs the help. It's that sometimes it's nice to have it anyway," Kate points out, but she can understand the desire to avoid taking help. She'd do the same, and is doing the same. While she has a number of resources to help her with her own studies, she's been taking it all on on her own. Training herself up has been a lengthy task, but she's learning, and thankfully, her (very excellent) memory does half the job.

"But it's my boss, Matt Murdock." "Boss" is only thrown in there so that if he does seek out Matt's help, there's at least some level of identification involved.

[ It's strange. She recognizes him, and at the same time, she doesn't. His smile is calm -- and foreign, in that way. She's still trying to fully convince herself that she's sitting across from the same Harvey Dent. The look on her face is somewhere between curiosity and skepticism. ]

Guess it does.

[ A little beat. ]

So. What inspired you?

walking beside the guilty and the innocent

I (4/27)

Haaaaaarv

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I. 4/28

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#2 (4/28) nobody cares if I'm late with starbucks right

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